


Distractions

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comfort, M/M, Plotless porn, Sad Porn, Sex, dean cries during sex wow, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 17:01:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3257555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's all pent up about the blade and he's gonna get it out of his system.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distractions

Studying the words on the paper but not particularly drinking them in, Dean sits on his bed with a book in his lap, his back resting against the headboard. His eyes are scanning the words, gliding through paragraph after paragraph. He sees the words but he hardly processes them, his mind in a distant land full of tragic trepidation and bitter desires. So when he reaches the end of the chapter, he frowns, unable to recall any of the story. 

Frustrated, he tosses the reading aside and it clatters to the floor, the sound of a heavy breath passing his lips as he rubs at his temples with thumb and forefinger. He needs to get his mind off this, off the mark, off the deep longing to grip the blade in his dominant hand. He wants so badly to hold it tightly, sink it into a demon's stomach and drag it from their pelvis to the space between their ribs, and maybe relish in the sight of their guts spilling over their putrid flesh. But he can't, and he needs to push that thought out of his head, so he stands to his feet swiftly and stomps out of the room, his feet guiding him aimlessly.

He finds Castiel with ease. He's sitting in the kitchen, his eyes glued to the wall. He's thinking, contemplating, Dean can tell by the way his blue eyes are glazed over. But those blue orbs snap to meet Dean as he circles the angel, reaching his side where he stands, slumped over the table slightly as to talk directly to the angel.

"Hey," he says, his voice low and rasping. He didn't mean it to come out so shallow, so he clears his throat before he continues. "Is, uh, Sam here?"

"Hello." Castiel looks pleasant as always, a gentle smile on his lips. Dean can't drag his eyes away from them as the angel speaks. "He's out after some fast food, I assumed you would want the usual, so we didn't-"

Dean spares no time and interrupts Castiel, crashing their lips together. It's not an unfamiliar motion, but not usually one to take place in the kitchen. Not one to usually take place so feverishly, either, because Dean's hands are already working at Castiel's waist, pulling him out of his seat. Their lips move as Dean pushes Cas onto the table, his fingers fumbling with his belt as he snogs the angel hastily. 

Castiel needs to breathe, metaphorically perhaps, but this is going fast, so he pulls away a bit and places his hands on Dean's neck, cupping the crooks as his fingers run mindlessly over the nape of the hunter's neck.

"Are you alright?" Castiel asks. Dean can't maintain eye contact, his vision is suddenly blurring, so he buries his lips in Cas' neck, moving them in sync with his hips, rubbing them against Castiel's crotch. The angel huffs, whether from annoyance or pleasure is unknown to Dean, but he complies and cranes his neck to offer more room for Dean's wandering lips.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Castiel offers gently after some thought. Dean doesn't want to pull away from his neck because it's moist and most of it is from the tears in his eyes. He shakes his head no, and Castiel hums in reply, moving his lips against Dean's ear understandingly. The hunter appreciates it and trails kisses up the angel's throat, planting sloppy kisses in his wake until their lips meet again. He can hear a moan percolate in the back of the angel's throat and his hips jerk against him reflexively at the sound. Then he hears Castiel chuckle, so he slows to a halt and peels back to look at him. For a moment he thinks he's hit a ticklish spot, but Castiel answers his nonverbal question quickly.

"You're already hard," he says, running his fingers over the other man's crotch, tracing the bulging fabric as he goes on to say, "I like that."

Dean snorts, he smiles a little, but they both no it's not entirely sincere. His eyes are red rimmed, tears billowing over the brim. He swallows, and slouches against the angel, resting his forehead on his shoulder. He's still, and after a while Castiel bucks his hips a little to draw his attention, running his hands up and down Dean's arms that are positioned on either side of him.

"Dean?" 

The hunter sobs in reply, rubbing his head against Castiel's jaw as he cries audibly now. It's quiet and people more than a few feet away from the man would have to strain to catch the pain and sorrowful sounds that escape him as he blubbers, and the angel's heart drops to first his stomach and then some other place he can't quite pinpoint. He rubs the man's back, obliging him as he grabs his hips and pulls him closer. The hunter nudges Castiel gently to the table with a flat palm to his chest, and he complies silently, laying back on the cold surface. He watches Dean wipe his eyes with one hand, the other lingering at Castiel's hip. He sucks a breath in through his teeth before getting back to business. 

His rough hands slip up Castiel's shirt, they're cold and nice against the angel's skin. Soon his overcoat is removed, tossed aside, and his shirt is along with it. Dean's shirt follows soon after. Castiel had given up offering to simply dissipate their clothes with a snap of the finger, Dean had always denied, claiming he preferred the process.  
Lips meet the angel's chest and he shudders. Dean trails down and further down, his tongue lingering at his stomach. He flicks a tongue over Castiel's hip as he pulls his pants out of the way, eliciting a soft giggle from the angel. He's ticklish in certain places and Dean finds it easy to utilizes these spots, deterring him from usual inhibitions. Currently, his crying is the point of his inhibition and he wants to distract Castiel from that realization as frequently as possible.

Castiel can feel fresh tears land on his pelvis, jut below his naval, and he digs his teeth into his bottom lip. A part of him is disgusted by how willing he is to give himself to a man who is obviously feeling a cluster of heavily weighed emotions, a man who is literally crying during copulation, particularly (and assumingly) about his current inability to deny his want to give into the first blade and the mark. Yet the other part tries to tell him that Dean wants this, and needs this, to calm those certain feelings that he shouldn't be feeling.  
And then he feels almost used, but he extinguishes that quickly as Dean's mouth is occupied by his cock. His breathing hitches and he grabs at the man's shoulders as his length is plunged into warmth and slobber. A moan escapes as Dean's teeth graze the underbelly of his organ. The feeling lasts for longer than usual, and Castiel's chest swells with erratic breathing as he comes into the hunter's mouth, his hips rocking as his muscles spasm with pleasure. He pants, his arms dropping to his sides, his chest heaving. His eyes flutter open as a weight crawls on top of him, and his eyes are met by Dean's. The man smiles and ducks in, planting a deep kiss on his angel. Appreciatively, Castiel sits up on his elbows as he kisses his hunter back.

The kiss ends, and Castiel falls back to his initial position. He sighs pleasantly as Dean continues to place kisses all over the angel, his hands working at his own belt.  
Castiel lifts his arms, running a hand through Dean's hair, the other traveling down his back and to his pants. He helps slip them off, lifts his rear to help Dean slip off his own. The hunter crawls onto the table too, hoisting Castiel's legs to sit on his hips. 

"Uh," he says suddenly. "I forgot the lube."

Castiel snorts, producing it with ease. He hands the bottle to Dean who lathers his cock with the stuff, proceeding to slather it on Castiel's recieving end. He hisses at the cold, but it's quickly replaced by an intruder he greets with a moan. His lips are trapped against Dean's suddenly, so all of his moans and whimpers are either muted or they flood directly into the hunter's thinkpan. He can hear Dean enjoying the endeavor as well, their breaths matched in volume as Dean rocks his hips. The hunter pulls away to breathe, and Castiel quickly seizes the opportunity, his arms work quickly to wrap around Dean, pulling him down so he can kiss his neck. Dean sighs and leans into it, his hips hammering now as Castiel trails kisses behind his ear. His breath is hot against the angel and he has to fall back to the table, allowing Dean to work kisses against his shoulder. 

There's an abrupt, slight stutter in Dean's actions as he hammers without muse, his thrusts quick as he climaxes, filling his angel with goop. He breathes heavily into Castiel's neck as the angel writhes with him, their bodies melting into a puddle of post-sex fuzzies that flutter in their tummies. Dean collapses onto the angel, and the angel wraps his arms around the hunter. He wants to tell him he loves him, but he knows it makes the hunter uncomfortable, so he bites his tongue and hums his feelings instead. He often hums after sex and it usually puts Dean to sleep, so when the hunter falls unresponsive and his breathing slows considerably, Castiel wriggles out of his warm embrace and sits up slightly. He smiles at the sight he is presented with; the hunter asleep, looking almost peaceful. He plants a kiss between his eyes.

"I love you, Dean Winchester," he whispers. He straddles shock as Dean's lips move almost incomprehensibly, sleepily and without much function. He can barely make it out on the hunter's slow lips, but it makes his heart thump wildly in his chest as it is confirmed by the soft audio that hits his ears. 

"I love you, too, Cas."

**Author's Note:**

> i'm gonna be writing more smut . i enjoyed this lmao


End file.
